


Misguided Ghosts

by vulpesvulpex



Series: One-Hundred Ways [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Isaac is Done With Your Shit Derek, M/M, Mutual Pining, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvulpex/pseuds/vulpesvulpex
Summary: “I know, I can feel it.” He lifts a hand with the IV sticking out of it to his chest and pats it twice before settling it. Derek wonders what he means, but doesn’t ask. Instead he revels in this; the calm breathing, the soft eyes and purposeful lingering glances before something else happens. If the calm before the storm is this, he’ll take it.OR: Peter is back, Isaac is over it, Stiles is tired and Derek is just Derek.Inspired by a gifset titled 3 Times Derek Watched Stiles Sleep and One Time Stiles Woke Up





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title by Paramore, "Misguided Ghosts". Their new album is coming soon - 99.4% or something, right? Also, kind of ties into the theme with Peter. Honestly, I get the hate for him but he's never bothered me villain-wise. I like him in that respective way. 
> 
> Also, this entire work was based on a post by hoechloin on tumblr. I can't hyperlink it because I'm half asleep but the thought counts. 3 + 1, Derek watching Stiles sleep until Stiles wakes up. Not as creepy as it sounds.

“This reminds you of old times, huh?” Derek would be surprised, but he’s too amused to show it. Instead, he laughs along with Sherriff Stilinski as he takes a seat across from him at his desk. It was a bit of a blast from the past, minus the cuffs but not Stiles.

Instead of cramming himself into the cruiser with him, he was peacefully asleep in the bench behind them.

“So, you had something to tell me? That might regard the, _uh_ , safety of our supernatural citizens.” He looked uncomfortable, but Derek shrugged. The Sherriff has a very redeeming quality of being faced with awkwardness and managing to ignore it -willfully- without much.

“I think Peter is coming back. You should probably keep a look out.” He says dryly. For a moment, the Sherriff stares at him with a slightly condescending look on his face.

“ _That_. Is it?” He says, woefully regarding Derek with his utmost respectful look despite the fact that Stiles has started to snore. Derek would find that amusing too, if it weren’t for the fact that he is, in fact, dead serious. Peter is a pain in the ass alive or undead, and on two legs he’s even _worse_.

“Yes, sir.” He responds.

They stare at each other for a moment until Stiles interrupts by groaning, mumbling something incoherently and turning onto his side. Or, at least, he tries to but he falls hard onto his arm and wakes with a moan.

“Since when is the ground so _hard_?” He bitches, sitting up and blinking wildly until he lands on a person to direct it to. He finds Derek and glares at him half-heartedly before yawning out, “More things that go bump in the night running rampant?”

“No, Peter might be coming back.” Derek responds. Stiles’ face falls slightly before he sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I _hate_ that guy.” He decides on, after a moment of deliverance. Derek snorts.

-

“So, like, run this by me again.” Isaac says, from where he’s perched on Stiles’ windowsill. He’s got his bored, uncaring look that he reserves for Stiles interactions only and Derek wants to laugh at that, wants to smirk about it but Stiles _is_ kind of making a point right now.

“It doesn’t have legs unlike the dick who’s about to be on our porch, but stay sleep. I don’t care. You can protect your own little wolfy ass and leave me out of it if you’re not going to at least _pretend_ to give a shit about it.” Stiles says in a single breath, voice hard and mean.

Promptly, Isaac shuts up and puts on his listening face.

“I propose we put up wards – nothing to big or fancy – around Beacon Hills. Some protection ones, some weakening ones designed specifically for him and others for alarms. We make sure he doesn’t get in, but if he does we can track him. No matter what, we keep an eye on him. Drain him, then find out what’s poppin’.”

“A plus for creativity.” Lydia says from her place at Stiles’ headboard. He grins saccharine sweet at her before looking to Derek. He kind of wants to be surprised but in all honesty, they look to him more than Scott.

“What are we going to do when we find him?” Derek asks.

“I don’t know. You’re the muscle here, I’m just the brain.” He responds easily and Derek wants to laugh at it but the way Stiles nods towards his biceps, he doesn’t think he’s kidding. Instead he stares at him for a moment before sighing. Stiles could be the muscle against anything not-werewolf. He’s got the build for it – broad, big hands and a pretty tight core from the looks of it – and with a little training, he could work, could totally kick ass. That, combined with his up-and-coming magic ability – yes, Derek could totally see it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s pink too and looks away, not really looking for an answer regardless. Derek knew Stiles had some strange crush on him for a while now – before he turned 18, at least – but would never act on it unless he knew.

“Nevermind.” He shakes his head, a little embarrassed, but still watching.

-

After that, he can’t seem to stop looking.

It’s starting to become a problem when Isaac of all people raise an eyebrow in his direction when he stares for a second too long. Derek rolls his eyes and glares in Isaacs general direction until he’s done being embarrassed.

He, Isaac, and Stiles end up staying at Derek’s for the better part of the night, devising strategies on how to deal with him. Most of them revolve around killing him without mercy, which Derek can get behind, but there’s very little other examples eb4ng thrown out there.

It comes to a – mostly – halt when they decide to stew over pitch idea back and forth. Most involve bodily harm until Isaac ventures out; “Why don’t we ignore him. We fuck him up, watch him to make sure he’s leaving us alone – let your dad do some actual work around here – and just stay out of it.”

“When have I ever stayed out of anything?” Stiles asks, chewing loudly on a piece of Hawaiian pizza. Derek thinks to the time when he had heard stories about the Sherriff’s son getting into trouble, and how that became a very real thing to him. He smiles at that thought.

“Yeah,” Isaac looks to Derek with an annoyed eye roll.

“Why am I on Stiles watch?” He asks, eyes flicking to Stiles. Their gazes match each other’s to a T and it would make Derek laugh, but instead he turns to Isaac.

“Yeah! I’m completely capable of not dying at the hands of an undead dick slinger, thank you.”

“You’re really not, and Derek is the only one out of me, Scott and him to go all _Save Jane, Oof Oof_ while pounding on his chest to save you if it comes down to it.” Derek would disagree but he can’t really, so instead levels with an eye roll and eating another piece.

“I abhor your very little thinking with my own intellectual-“

“Stiles.” Derek interrupts, swallowing the food in his mouth. Stiles does stop, but waits for him to go on and when he doesn’t he gives him a similar betrayed look he had given Isaac.

“Fuck you both.” He decides on, and chomps down another slice.

After that, it’s too late for them to drive home without falling asleep at the wheel so they both retreat to respective rooms. Stiles takes the downstairs couch, loaded with pillows and blankets even though they both know he’ll kick them off in the night.

They wake in the morning to find him just like that, but half out of the bed and onto the floor with his face pressed firmly into the ground. Derek is the only one awake – somehow, Stiles not rustling to him walking around and Isaac far too used to it to care – so he takes a moment to gather himself before waking Stiles.

He does, and coughs one time to see Stiles tipping over and doing a flip onto the ground. It makes Derek laugh, loud and boisterous, and Stiles squints up at him. He walks out of the room a moment later, still grinning but hellbent on the idea of coffee.

-

The next time he watches him sleep doesn’t come from Peter, but from himself.

Derek found him, somehow in the mess of the shitshow it was to ignore Peters introduction back into town – a whole streamline of weak willed, half conjured ghosts wreaking havoc on everyone in town – and had found him at the bottom of the stairs in his loft.

“My mom –“ he choked out, voice sad with tears brimming. He fell unconscious after that but he knew that what Peter did to everyone, he had gotten his own foul taste.

The ride to the hospital was silent, which he could handle. What he couldn’t, though, was the beeps, the undelaying currents of activity in the hospital. There’s a million things happening right outside the door – people flying from car crashes, or overdoses, or simple burns. It’s all too much, so when Stiles regains consciousness, he doesn’t even realize.

“Hey, Tarzan.” He says.

“Funny.” Derek says, relishing in Stiles sated, sleepy scent. He always smells subdued somehow, like freshly cut grass or warm sunlight that’s just out of reach but still there. He clings to it, watches his chest rise and fall.

“How did you find me? I thought everyone was out trying to find Peter –“

“Don’t worry about that right now.” He settles on, instead of telling him the painful details. Peter had come back – no surprise – and brought back the dead’s spirits. The people Stiles had saw were probably real, their own, but manifested differently.

“How is my dad?”

“I called him. He has to finish business at the station before coming over. There’s a lot going on tonight.”

“I know, I can feel it.” He lifts a hand with the IV sticking out of it to his chest and pats it twice before settling it. Derek wonders what he means, but doesn’t ask. Instead he revels in this; the calm breathing, the soft eyes and purposeful lingering glances before something else happens. If the calm before the storm is this, he’ll take it.

-

They don’t get a dog, or something equally as home-y. Instead, they keep Isaac.

They don’t do that either. Isaac gets sick of Stiles being around after their recent ‘involvement’ as Isaac likes to call it, and had taken his way to hanging out with Scott more often than not, and only coming home to sleep if Stiles wasn’t over.

“He just reeks like,” He’d said one morning, watching Stiles wander from Derek’s room downstairs into the bathroom. “Really accomplished sunshine, and Earth and sex. It’s gross.”

Derek had laughed, but agreed nonetheless. He doesn’t comment on Isaac’s own loneliness but instead shrugs and says, “Well, this _is_ your house too. Come home whenever you’d like.”

He’s glad he’s not home right now, though because Derek is shuffling through half-mast and honestly, probably ready to go again if Stiles suggested it with the briefest of convincing. He’s incorrigible; always laughing about it and saying things like, “You’re so easy. Have some shame.” Before sticking his hands down Derek’s pants anyway.

He’s glad for it, knows Stiles is too and watches his back rise and fall until he’s made his way into the kitchen. The faucet is quiet but he knows by the way Stiles’ heartbeat ticks slightly that he’s woken him up. He doesn’t bother hiding it, but instead drinks carefully and lets Stiles track his movements until he’s walking back to bed.

He’s drifting off again when Derek finally gets comfortable, arranging their limbs together so they’re pressed everywhere and content. Stiles does smell a little accomplished, but he always does after sex. Though the Earth smell is new, hidden under a layer of sweat and _DerekDerekDerek_ that makes him smile and tuck his leg between the other mans.

“You’re warm.” Stiles hums as heartfelt as he can get half asleep, but Derek takes it anyways and presses a kiss to the side of his head. He's already drifting back when Stiles leans back into him completely, and sags relaxed as he falls asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> A little rocky, I thought. I'd love to hear your constructive criticism! Kudos and comments appreciated! :)


End file.
